


When old acquaintance are best forgot

by Bellmel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry and Ron Brotp, The Weasleys (et al.) have Harry's back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellmel/pseuds/Bellmel
Summary: While enjoying a night out in Muggle London, Harry’s evening is interrupted by the appearance of someone from his past.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	When old acquaintance are best forgot

“Will you quit shuffling your bloody feet?” Ron muttered, kicking Bill’s heels in front of him. 

“In a hurry, are we?” Bill asked, turning briefly to look at Ron as he continued to walk alongside Charlie.

“Some of us want to eat.” Thanks to the inability of the newest recruits in his team to follow the simplest of procedures, the day’s morning field mission had turned into an all-day, skip-lunch fiasco. 

Charlie snorted and shook his head. “Of course you fucking do.” 

Ron scowled. “Not all of us spent the day being fed by mum.” 

Ron turned the collar of his overcoat up, pulling the front of it closely together in an attempt to keep out the biting cold. Wrapping his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, he pulled her in close as a couple walking the other way brushed past them. As brutal as the December early evening chill was, it had done little to deter the many Muggles who were hurrying through the streets carrying overladen shopping bags or wearing the tell-tale flushed cheeks of festive revellers. 

Several paces ahead of them, Harry and Lee were debating the potential for the Harpies’ new training regime to give them the upperhand in the evening’s upcoming match against the Wasps. They paused their fervent conversation only briefly every couple of minutes to throw jibes at George and Angelina, who were using roasted nuts aimed at the back of Harry’s and Lee’s heads as a means to prove who had superior accuracy. So far their skills seemed to be on par, necessitating repeated attempts. 

As they turned the corner, Ron looked up at the sound of George’s appreciative groan. Even if he hadn’t recognised the garish blue and red sign hanging overhead a few shopfronts away, the distinctive aroma alone would have told him they had reached the restaurant. 

They weren’t exactly regulars here, but they had visited often enough to appreciate it for what it was – an unassuming restaurant that was so justifiably sure about just how bloody amazing their pizza was, that they didn’t need to bother with fancy decor or modern branding. And how right they were. 

Lee eagerly pushed the door open and they began to file in. 

The last to reach the restaurant, Ron had just made his way through the door when he heard it. 

“Potter?” 

Ron stopped midstep, letting the door slam shut behind him. He turned instinctively towards the voice, where a tall and lanky man was pushing his chair back and making his way towards Harry, eyes-wide in disbelieving recognition.

“Hah! It is you!” He gave a short laugh, a cocky smile plastered across his narrow, pinched face. 

Ron straightened up as Harry paused, watching the man approach. 

They had all spent their fair share of time in the Muggle world in recent years, Harry and Ginny especially. But while it was true that they were well acquainted with Muggle London, to Muggle London, they were strangers. No one ever recognised them here – they enjoyed almost complete anonymity, with only Hermione seeing a familiar face on rare occasions. Ron felt uneasy to think that someone in this nondescript place knew Harry. 

In front of him, Harry paused for a moment, seemingly collecting himself before managing an almost convincing expression of indifference.

“Piers,” he responded emotionlessly. His feet remained planted in place, making no move to meet the man halfway. 

Ron couldn’t remember ever having heard the name Piers before. It wasn’t really surprising, though – Harry had never shared much about his early years, and Ron had never asked, not really. But he could only assume this reunion wasn’t exactly a happy one, at least not for Harry – Piers on the other hand seemed to have no such reservations, judging by the amusement evident on his stupid smug face. 

The loud chatter from the rest of the group ahead had quietened by this stage, each of them stopping to watch the exchange with wary interest. The man – Piers – either didn’t notice he had a large audience, or just didn’t care. 

“Man! It’s been a while, yeah?” he said, slapping Harry on the arm. “It must be, what – ten years since we last goofed around with Dudley and the gang?”

“Something like that,” Harry said. 

“What are you up to these days? You working? Keeping out of trouble?” 

“I’m a… uh, a criminal investigator, of sorts.”

“Yeah? Really?” Piers raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

Harry stayed silent.

Piers laughed. “Would have come across some of your old schoolmates from St Brutus’s, I bet! Must be awkward, that.”

Harry still didn’t speak. Ron shifted slightly towards him, and noticed George do the same on his other side. 

The silent impasse was interrupted by the groan of the restaurant door as it swung open. A small group walked through, muttering their apologies as they squeezed past the large party blocking the entrance. Angelina pressed herself against the window to allow them through. 

“I’ll go get a table,” she said, turning on her heel. “Come on, Hermione.” 

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then followed the older girl towards an empty table next to the far window. 

Piers looked past Harry at this, turning his attention for the first time to the large group with Harry. 

“Piers” he said, by way of introduction. “Harry and I go way back – his cousin Dudley and I used to joke around with Harry as kids… you know, play all kinds of tricks and the sort. All a bit of fun, eh Harry?” he chuckled. Ron figured he must be the thickest breed of git to miss the stony stares directed towards him.

Harry’s shoulders tensed, but he kept his face impassive as he turned briefly to look at the mostly red-headed group behind him. “Er, these are… ah...”

“George. Harry’s my brother.” George took a step forward as he introduced himself, placing his hand firmly on Harry’s shoulder as he spoke.

Piers narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Brother? No,” he scoffed. “I know Harry – he hasn’t got any brothers.”

“Then you mustn’t know Harry very well,” said Bill, his tone somewhat cold but without malice.

Piers shrugged, obviously not caring enough to debate the point. 

“Well, I’m in banking,” he said. “Don’t normally work in London, but I end up here a fair bit. Had a conference this week in the big city, full of all the national bigwigs.” He smiled smugly.

George wrinkled his nose and slipped his hand into his pocket. He looked at Harry with a quirk of his eyebrow, as if asking permission. Harry subtly shook his head.

“Right,” Charlie interrupted, putting an abrupt stop to Piers’ drivel, and cementing his place as Ron’s favourite brother for the night. “I didn’t come all this way to stand around, lads. Let’s get a move on.”

Ron turned back to Piers. “Charlie’s only in town for a couple of days,” he said, giving him the most insincere apologetic smile he could manage. “He lives in Romania now. Rescues tigers and studies them.”

Bill snorted. Ron ignored him. 

“Of course. Glad I bumped into you, Harry. Dudley won’t believe it when I tell him.”

With an almost imperceptible twitch of his mouth, Harry regarded the man from his past one last time. “Yeah. Well, bye Piers.” He turned and walked away. 

Piers paused for a moment before he too turned around and walked back to his table, where his companions had continued talking among themselves and gesturing wildly, paying no mind to their absent friend.

Charlie grabbed Ron around the head and pulled him down playfully as they made their way to their own table. “Tigers in bloody Romania? You twat.” 

Ron pushed him away and shrugged indifferently. “It beats fucking banking. Doubt he even knows Romania’s a country anyway.”

“Ron’s got a point,” Harry laughed. “There’s nothing for us to worry about there.” 

Charlie chuckled good-naturedly and walked ahead, leaving Harry with the two youngest Weasley boys.

George looked at Harry with a disquietingly familiar smirk. 

“No,” Harry said pointedly. “Promise me you won’t do anything.”

George immediately abandoned any pretense of innocence and threw his head back. “Ugh! Fine. I won’t do anything,” he huffed, and walked off to claim the empty chair next to Lee. 

“All good, mate?” Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry was silent a moment before answering. “Yeah,” he said. “All good.”

Nothing more was said on the matter as they ordered their pizzas and went on to devour them with almost indecent relish. The chatter was incessant, the laughs hearty, and the ribbing familiar and good-natured. 

When only a couple of meager slices remained, they each threw their money down haphazardly. Ron stood and leaned over the table, gathering the notes together. 

“I’ll take this up.”

Lee looked up at the bar before exchanging a brief look with George. Turning back to Ron, he said, “I’ll join you. Give my compliments to the chef.”

Ron shrugged, and the two approached the counter at the bar. As they got closer, Ron groaned inwardly. Piers, radiating his aura of stupid smugness, was already there. He was casually resting one arm on the countertop while gesturing with the other in an unsuccessful attempt to gain the bartender’s attention. He turned his head in annoyance and caught sight of Ron and Lee, just as Ron was sliding the cash across the counter.

“Heading off already?” 

Ron acknowledged the question with an uninterested nod, but somehow Lee missed the part about them not liking the prick.

“Afraid so,” said Lee, shaking his head regretfully. “We’re heading out to watch a match tonight.”

“Too bad. Thought I might have a pint with Harry. Reminisce and all that.”

“Sorry, you’re out of luck. Harry’s missed the past two matches because of work. Ginny’d kill him if he wasn’t there for this one. Besides, it’s an away match tonight, so no family box for us. We have to battle the crowds like mere common folk.” 

Ron decided the look of dazed bewilderment on Piers’ face made this second unintended meeting wholly worthwhile. 

Piers opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the bartender, who coughed loudly and raised an eyebrow in impatience. Caught off guard, Piers stammered his order and turned back to Lee.

“Is she, er… Is that Harry’s girlfriend? She plays?”

Lee nodded. “That she does.”

“Anyone I’d know?” Piers asked with interest.

“I don’t think—”

“Nah, you’re probably right,” Piers interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t really follow much of the girls’ sports. Not much point really, is there? It’s just like watching the National League… you know – the play’s slower, afraid to take hits, lower scoring.”

Ron was taken aback by this assessment. He looked over at Lee, curious to see if he would be able to contain his reaction to this description of sportswomen. And Lee was as predictable as ever – his jaw clamped shut, the muscles in his arms tense. After a beat, Lee straightened up and let out a breath. 

“Well, you’re obviously not watching the right sports.” 

With a condescending smile spread across his face, Lee put his hand firmly on Piers’ shoulder before moving it to clap him on the back. “We best be off. Enjoy your night, yeah?”

Ron nodded in farewell to Piers before turning back to Lee. With a self-satisfied wink, Lee led the way to the door where the rest of their group stood waiting, shrugging on their thick coats. 

With one last glance towards the bar, Ron moved towards Harry. “Ready to watch some Quidditch?” And with that, he put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and guided him quickly out the door, lest his best mate turn back and notice the unmistakable way his old acquaintance was beginning to itch furiously at his torso.


End file.
